Page 59 of Threads That Bind Us
A spark lights up under my skin at the thought of asking for exactly what I want, of knowing he’ll give it to me. A thousand scenarios flash through my mind, each one hotter than the last.
But something stops me from asking for them. Because even if I don’t get all those fantasies, if we decide tomorrow this was a bad idea, I want this intimacy with him more than anything else.
“Maybe for tonight we just feel out what seems natural,” I say, tracing the tattoo of Hermes on his ribs, face agonized and turned toward the heavens. Charlie shudders under my touch. “If that’s okay with you?”
He presses a kiss into the crown of my hair, and I feel my heart skip a beat.
“Yes, that’s okay with me,” he mutters into my hair. “We have lots of nights ahead of us.”
I flush, my heart now pounding loudly in my chest. I refuse to read further into his words, to let the oxytocin fool me into taking them at more than face value. Partners, friends, and fucking. Mutual gratification.
My stomach dips, but I chase the feeling away by pressing my lips to Charlie’s and trailing my hand down his chest, to his stomach. I brush my hand over his cock, desperate to feel him, and he curses into my mouth.
“Please, mio filo, you’re torturing me,” he moans, his hips jerking, forcing his cock into my hand.
“Ironic,” I laugh, reveling in the blissfully pained look on his face. “I am getting addicted to the sound of you begging, though.”
“I have no issue begging for you, Gwen,” he says, and my name sounds a bit like a prayer on his tongue. “All I’ve wanted to do for months is beg for you to touch me, to let me touch you. And I’ll keep begging for you until you tell me to stop.”
His words thrum through my body. I’m painfully turned on, my pussy clenching around nothing, desperate for him again.
“You have condoms?” I ask, slipping my hand against his cock again.
He nods repeatedly, seemingly unable to react coherently to my question until I release him. He shakes himself, kisses me once, and then hops off the bed. When he returnsfrom the bathroom, he tosses a handful of silver wrappers on the nightstand, keeping one tucked between his fingers.
“Optimistic,” I taunt, but my teasing tone disappears as soon as lowers his head between my legs again, working me with his mouth until I’m soaked, pleasure warming my skin.
“I should have said something before we started, but I’ve been tested since my last partner and everything came back negative,” he says as kisses up my stomach, resting his head on my sternum and looking up at me.
“It’s been years, but same here,” I reply, running my fingers through his hair again. His chest rumbles, and I can’t help but laugh at how much he looks like a pleased cat. “I’m not on birth control, though.”
“That’s okay,” he says, pressing a kiss to the space between my breasts. “You’re sure you want this?”
I slip my fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, tugging them slightly.
“Just as much as you do,” I say, leaning up to kiss the hollow of his throat as I work his boxers down his hips.
“I promise you, that’s not possible,” he breathes, but before I can argue, he captures my lips with his own, helping me remove the last of his clothes.
I barely register the floral tattoo wrapping up his left thigh as he sits back. I’m mesmerized by him. The muscle and scars and ink, all making Charlie who he is. A vicious man with a soft soul. Someone who believes in fate.
He hands me the foil packet and I carefully tear it open. The wrapper disappears onto the floor with our clothes, and I carefully roll the condom on to his cock, stroking him as I do. He hisses at my touch, his breathing turning labored, and when I finish, he grabs my hand and laces our fingers together.
I watch his face as he positions himself at my entrance and slides into me, slow and deliberate. The feeling of him inside ofme is so good, so full, words escape me. He keeps his eyes on where we’re joined until he’s fully seated. We both take a few deep breaths, adjusting to the feeling of being this close.
“You okay?” I ask when he doesn’t move for a few minutes.
He looks at the ceiling again and then back to me, a pained smile on his face.
“I have possibly never been better in my life. Just need a moment.”
Something about him nearly losing it so quickly fills me with a sense of pride that’s probably toxic. I lift my hips off the bed, rocking myself on his cock. Pleasure and laughter rip through me in equal spades as Charlie grips my hips to still me.
“Gwen, I need to feel you come around my cock, and I can’t do that if you keep doingthat,” he groans, and I think about ignoring him. About seeing how quickly I can make him come. Of overwhelming him with pleasure again and again, until he doesn’t know if he’s begging for more or for me to stop. But I resist the temptation and relax my hips back onto the bed.
After a minute more, he moves to brace himself over me, lifting one of my legs high around his hip along the way. Slowly, he withdraws himself to the tip, holding himself there as he kisses the juncture of my neck.
“You are incredible.” I feel his words more than I hear them as he slides back into me, forcing my back to arch as he fills me. “Beautiful.” Another thrust. I clench the hand wrapped in his, and he moves them both near my head, not holding me down, just pressing our bodies closer. “Fucking Christ, Gwen, you feel better than I imagined.”